NY Express
by Tigeroo
Summary: An alternate universe: Alex and Olivia meet under different circumstances. Will love prevail? Alex/Olivia femslash with guest appearances from other SVU characters.
1. Intro

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, well except for all typos and mistakes.

**Spoilers:** None

* * *

SilkpoetV keeps encouraging me to leave drabbleville, and become a member of longstorytown. So I've been a good little writer and did what I was told. Here it is, the beginning of a hopefully long, multi-chaptered AU fic. I can't promise regular updates, at the moment work unfortunately has to come first, but I'll try to update as much as possible.

Reviews and suggestions for future chapters are most welcome, and I am pretty sure, that without your support I won't be able to finish this. Now, enjoy, and keep in mind, it's an alternate universe.

**Warnings: **None so far, but the rating might get up in future chapters.

* * *

"Benson", Donald Cragen shouted across the room.

"Yes boss?", Olivia asked, looking up from her typewriter.

"Grab that jacket of yours, and get a move on. You are going to interview Trevor Langan."

The brunette grimaced as if she had bitten on something mighty unpleasant.

"Congressman Trevor Langan, that slimy lawyer who's trying to get re-elected?", she asked.

"The one. He and the missus are at home, awaiting your arrival. There's the address", Cragen handed her a slip of paper.

Olivia whistled at the neighbourhood. "Damn, he's living in fat city."

Don looked at his watch. "Well if you don't get cracking, you won't meet him, and miss the chance of seeing some prime real estate."

"Fine, fine, cool it big daddy, I'm on my way", Olivia replied, getting up from her chair and grabbing her jacket. "Can I take Elliot?"

"No, you can't, I need him. But you can take your camera... And Olivia? Call me that again and you won't need to bother coming back, clear?"

"Yes, sir", she grinned, waving over her shoulder, before she left the stuffy office, enjoying the cool fresh air that assaulted her as soon as she walked onto the street.

She hailed a cab, giving the driver the address Cragen had told her. While the cabbie sang along the radio, completely out of tune, she took out her notebook, jotting down possible questions she could ask the congressman and his wife. She hated going in an interview unprepared, and even though she disliked Langan's political views, she was bent on getting as much information out of him as possible. She was especially curious about meeting his wife. Of course she had seen the two of them in the gossip pages, and she had heard quite a lot about the young and wealthy Wellesley graduate who had married the 'family friend' at the age of 23, her blonde hair, and aristocratic features a sight for sore eyes. Olivia shrugged. Who was she kidding, a spoiled rich trophy wife, that was who she was going to meet. Hopefully she would be able to wrap up the interview as quickly as possible, she had promised Abbie to do some laundry, and really, even going through Casey's dirty clothes sounded more pleasant than spending an hour with the privileged and snobby. Why had she taken this job again? Oh yeah, because she loved it, and was waiting for her big breakthrough.

The cabbie stopped in front of a big brownstone. "We're there, miss."

Olivia gathered her belongings, payed the driver, and got out of the car. She had been right. Trevor's pad screamed dough. Pocketing her notebook, she ran her fingers through her short hair, trying to smooth it a little, probably to no avail. She shouldered her camera case and made her way up the stairs. The door bell was big and pretentious, what a surprise. She pressed the button and heard the melodic sound echo through the house. She took a little step back, not a second too early. The heavy door opened, and an impeccably dressed maid looked at her.

"Yes, how may I help you miss?", the young woman asked gazing at brunette, and Olivia nearly expected to be asked to use the rear entrance.

"Olivia Benson, NY Express, I'm here for the interview. Mr. Langan expects me."

"Ah, you're the reporter", the suddenly friendly maid said, opening the door a little wider, "come on in, the congressman awaits you in the parlour."

After fighting the urge to wipe her feet for longer than the appropriate ten seconds at the sight of the cream coloured carpet in front of her, Olivia entered the house, following the young woman through a long corridor.

The girl knocked on a wooden door that presumable lead to the den.

"Come in", a deep voice could be heard. The young woman opened the door.

"Sir, the reporter just arrived", she said.

"Ahh, bring him in, Janet", the baritone replied.

Janet turned around, facing the older woman. "Through here", she motioned, holding the door open for Olivia. The brunette nodded, entering the den. Expensive, conservative, and bland dark wooden furniture filled the room, a sofa, two armchairs and a chaise longue artfully arranged around a glass coffee table, that was probably worth more than Olivia's whole apartment.

Trevor, who apparently had been reading, folded the newspaper and rose from his seat, looking at the reporter.

"Oh, I obviously should have said 'bring her in'. Forgive me, Miss...", he looked inquiringly at Olivia.

"Benson, Olivia Benson, sir", she supplied.

"Ah, Miss Benson. I am sorry, I was expecting a man from what I had gathered from the conversation with your boss. He told me he was going to send his best reporter. But what do they say, assumption is the mother of all misunderstandings, please accept my apology", he smiled a boyish smile, and against her inner voice that protested at his misogynistic remark, she was charmed, and understood his raving success with the voters a little better.

"No harm done", she replied, the lie sounding surprisingly sincere.

Beaming he turned to Janet. "Janet, please bring us some coffee, would you dear?", before facing Olivia again, stretching out his hand to shake hers.

"I am so glad you could come on such a short notice, Miss Benson. I sure appreciate your paper's efforts, I'm Trevor Langan", again he smiled, "but you probably knew that. Please, have a seat", he gestured towards the sofa.

Olivia lowered herself on the couch and Trevor was about to follow her example when a second door on the other side of the room opened, and the most beautiful woman Olivia had ever seen entered the room. Her blonde hair was curled, her makeup discreet, but perfectly underlying her natural beauty and the brilliant blue eyes. She wore a fashionable skirt and petticoat with a blouse, a string of pearls around her neck. Olivia was speechless. She had seen pictures of Mrs. Langan, and she had once caught a glimpse of the blonde at a charity gala, back when she was still a freelance photographer, hoping to sell some pictures to the papers, but neither the pictures nor her memory did the woman justice. Intelligent blue eyes found hers, throwing her a curious look over the rim of tortoise glasses. Olivia had the strong feeling of being categorized, but the blonde's expression didn't give away her assessment.

Both women were torn out of their contemplations when Trevor jovially exclaimed. "Darling, there you are! This is Miss Olivia Benson, from the NY Express, we were about to start the interview, it's so great that you will join us." The politician turned to face Olivia again, taking his wife's hand.

"Miss Benson, please, I want you to meet my wife. Alexandra Langan."

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That's it, the intro/ preview. Hope you like the setting, let me know what you think.


	2. Interview

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, well except for all typos and mistakes.

So there we are, chapter number two. Please forgive me all factual mistakes, I don't live in the States, and I sure as hell wasn't alive during the 1950's so I don't claim that my descriptions are flawless.

Thank you so much for your feedback so far, I really hope you enjoy this part and keep reading, let me know what you think!

* * *

After the necessary pleasantries had been exchanged, all three of them sat down, and Olivia began her interview. She had just asked her first question and Trevor had lanced into a lengthy explanation about why it was so important for him to be elected for another five years, when Janet appeared with a coffee tray. She put it on the table and excused herself, leaving Mrs. Langan the honour of serving coffee.

"How do you take your coffee, Miss Benson?"

Olivia had to keep herself from shuddering at the husky voice of the woman currently perched over the coffee cups.

"Black, ma'am", she croaked out.

Alex nodded, as if thinking "figures", and handed the black-clad reporter her cup.

Olivia watched as she dropped two pieces of sugar into her husband's coffee, adding a generous splash of milk. The reporter bit back a grin. Wussy!

When all of them were nursing their cups, it was time to resume the interview.

Olivia listened with one ear, keeping her disinterest hidden. She knew how these things worked: Langan had granted their paper an interview, probably even paying them some money for it, desperate for any positive publicity. So she was expected to ask boring, vacant questions, that would show the reader what a strong and caring leader and husband the lawyer was. He would then reply with meaningless phrases that every politician, football coach, or pastor had used before him, things about being a simple hardworking man, only caring about the welfare of others, praying to God each night for his almighty support. She knew them all. None of the questions she was going to ask, and none of the answers he was going to give promised any surprises. She yearned to ask him 'real questions', questions that she was actually interested in hearing the answers to, questions that would make her understand who Trevor really was, and what he stood for.

She wanted to ask him whether he thought it unjust that one of the best photographers she had ever known would not be hired on a fixed basis by any newspaper. Why Fin had to work as their janitor, hoping that Cragen would throw him a bone from time to time, and buy some of his photos freelance, just because he happened to be black.

Or why Langan's wife with a perfect college degree was sitting at home, throwing dinner parties for her husband's investors and waiting for offspring instead of using her skills for society and getting a job.

And then there was that nagging question in the back of her mind, why it was still possible, that in the land of the free and the brave, a woman like her mother had been raped, and the man who had fathered her had never been convicted. Was it because he was the son of a rich man, that he continued spending the rest of his life in the same upper class circles he was born into, while her mother had been shunned for being a single mother?

Yes, she would have liked to hear his answers to these questions, but she valued her job, and so she asked him about another charity project, he was currently working on, scribbling down notes, and nodding in the right places.

A knock was heard, and Trevor looked apologetic before calling "enter!".

It was Janet. "I am so sorry sir, but Congressman Spencer is on the phone, and he says that it is an emergency."

Trevor sighed. "Congressman Spencer has a flair for the over-dramatic. But I'll better see what the problem is. I am terribly sorry Miss Benson, I'll be back within minutes. My wife will keep you company, and answer all your questions." With a squeeze of his wife's shoulder, he was gone.

When he had left the room, there was an uncomfortable silence.

"I'm sorry", Alex finally said, remembering her duties. "Would you like some more coffee."

Olivia shook her head. "No, thank you Mrs. Langan. But if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to ask you a few questions."

Alex nodded her consent. "Of course, ask away."

"You have a very beautiful home", the journalist said politely, ordering her thoughts. She was positive that "would you like to go out with me?", would not be a very well received question.

"Thank you", the blonde answered, having the feeling that the other woman was stalling.

"Have you ever thought about the pitter platter of little feet filling it?", Olivia asked, inwardly cringing at the her own phrasing. God, she sounded just like her great-aunt Mary.

Alex stoic expression didn't betray any surprise at the question. She was used to these kind of things. People were always interested in whether her husband's legacy would be passed on.

"Yes, of course, but unfortunately it has not been our time yet. But one day soon I hope that children's laughter will fill these rooms, family is so important to my husband and me", she replied.

Olivia nodded, not bothering to take a note. That was basically the same answer Senator Lewis' wife had given her ten days ago.

"What did you study?"

"Pardon?", Alex asked, confused by the non sequitur.

Olivia blushed. She should really concentrate a little more on her job and a little less on her thirst to find out everything there was to know about the foxy blonde.

"I heard you went to Wellesley. What was your major?", the reporter tried to explain her blunt question.

"I studied French and History. I wanted to become a teacher...", the politician's wife replied, trailing off.

"You don't want that anymore?", Olivia's next inquiry slipped out before the brunette could stop herself.

Alex furrowed her brows. "I still think that teaching is a very rewarding profession, Miss Benson. But my place is now at my husband's side. Supporting him is also a very important task, don't you think?"

Olivia had to bite back the sarcastic remark that probably would have cost her her employment.

"I'm not saying that what you do isn't important, Mrs. Langan, I'm sure your husband is a very fortunate man to have your support. I just think that you could also give a lot to society by being a teacher. I am sure you would have been great at it."

Alex nodded gracefully. "Maybe. But I have everything I need. My husband loves me, and my days are very busy with all the things I need to organise, running a household is like running a business. And it also gives me the opportunity to travel a lot, see interesting places, meet new people. Just yesterday I had a very fascinating discussion with Congressman Bishop..."

Olivia swallowed the question whether that discussion had consisted of the Congressman asking Alex' to tell his wife the secret recipe for her apple pie, instead listening to the rest of Alex' justification.

"Not to speak of the fantastic library of my husband's family, which provides me with the most interesting books, whenever I need some intellectual stimulation."

Olivia's tongue was probably bruised by now, as she again had to bite down on it before a "I could provide you with some stimulation" slipped out.

"Really Mrs. Langan, I'm not trying to insult you, and if I gave you that impression I want to apologise, that was not my intention", she finally said. She didn't want Langan to call Cragen and tell him that Olivia had harassed his wife.

Alexandra looked at her, not fully understanding why she had become so defensive. Of course the reporter hadn't wanted to insult her! But something about that intelligent, independent woman questioning her motives had set her off.

"No, of course not, don't worry", she replied, eyeballing the uncomfortable looking woman. "But tell me, what does your husband think about your job?"

The journalist chuckled. "I'm not married", she answered truthfully, amused that the other woman had turned the tables.

"Oh", Alex said. Of course not... "I'm sorry." Oh god, did she just say that? Apparently she did, because she heard Miss Benson genuinely laugh.

"Don't be, I'm not", the journalist replied. Seeing the scandalised look on her interview partner's face, she continued.

"Don't misunderstand me, ma'am. I think it is great if you find the one, the person you want to spend the rest of your life with. It's just, I haven't. Doesn't mean I'm not looking" - _"oh I am looking right now" _- her inner voice taunted, "but I'm also quite comfortable on my own. I have a job I love, I work with some really nice people, and my friends are all the family I need."

Alex looked at her with a mixture of disdain, pity, and jealousy in her eyes. This woman was so different, so unlike any woman she had ever met before, and yet, something about her fascinated the socialite. She shook her head, chasing the thoughts away. A train wreck was fascinating as well, that didn't mean she wanted to get involved in one...

Their conversation stilled, neither woman sure what to say. Finally, Olivia remembered her task, and asked Alexandra about her favourite pastimes, leading to a lively discussion about classical music, during which Olivia was silently grateful for her mother's extensive record collection.

As promised, Mr. Langan soon returned, and within another twenty minutes, Olivia had wrapped up the interview, said good bye, and promised Trevor to send down a delivery boy the next day with the typed interview, in case the Congressman wanted to change anything.

As soon as the door closed behind the reporter, Mrs. Langan turned to her husband.

"I don't like her", she said.

Trevor seemed surprised. "Really? I thought she was rather charming, in that mannish kind of way. I'm sorry, was she rude to you while I was gone?"

Alex shook her head. "No, of course not, she was very polite, I don't know darling, it's just a feeling."

Thank God, Trevor accepted her remark without questioning her motives any further... Because Alex was pretty sure that "because she makes me question things I have long ago made my peace with", was not an appropriate answer.

* * *

That's it for today, next time, we'll catch a glimpse into Olivia's past, 'till then you should have enough time to press that lovely little button dont 'cha think :-)?


	3. Rose of Texas

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, well except for all typos and mistakes.

**Spoilers:** None

**Warnings: **As you might have noticed, the story contains some Alex/OMC. Now there is also the mention of (past) Liv/OFC. Also, I changed the rating to T, due to language and some mentioned naughtiness.

Today I'll let you catch a glimpse into Olivia's past. It's a rather long chapter, hopefully establishing the background of the story a little more, but it might be the last one until this week-end, since there is this annoying thing called work that keeps bugging me.

Enjoy, and let me know what you think, my muse is constanty hungry, so please, DO feed her!

* * *

Olivia left the brownstone and hailed down a cab, mumbling her address before losing herself in thoughts about what the heck had just happened. She had expected a boring interview, and she had been partially right, the interview had been tedious, but the company had been anything but. Olivia wasn't sure how to explain her reaction. Yes, Mrs. Langan was a looker, but so were most of the women Olivia had dated. And the woman was married for Chrissakes! But something about her had touched a string in the reporter. Maybe it were the intelligent eyes, maybe it was her need to justify herself to Olivia, or maybe it had a little to do with the deep voice that had elicited a tingling in Liv's belly. The brunette shook her head. What was wrong with her? She had never reacted that way to anybody, and now was definitely not the time to start. Not that it mattered, she probably wouldn't see neither Mr. nor Mrs. Langan again. Well, now that she thought about it, that thought wasn't very comforting... Oh yes, it was definitely time for her to go home, there was nothing a night with the girls wouldn't cure, especially if there was liquor involved.

The ride passed in a blur, and the taxi driver had to call her twice until she finally reacted and left the car.

As soon as she entered the apartment, loud rock 'n roll music greeted her. She grinned. Seemed like she wasn't the only one who had had a bad day. She knocked on the door to her right. No answer. She tried again, and when there was still no reaction she pressed down the handle.

The sight before her made her smile. Casey had her back to the door, dancing in front of her mirror with a hairbrush in her hand. As soon as the redhead saw the reflection, she jumped, dropping the brush to the floor. "Good golly, Liv, you gave me the willies."

"Sorry, sugar, wasn't my intention. I just wanted to tell you that I promised Abs to do some laundry. You have any whites?", Liv chuckled. Stupid question, Casey and white clothes...

"Uhm, I might have a couple of unmentionables. Would you mind?", Casey asked blushing. She still wasn't quite comfortable with the whole communal laundry thing.

"Sure thing Casey doll, that's why I'm asking", Olivia replied.

When Olivia had loaded the washer and came back up from the basement, she was greeted by her favourite dimpled smile.

"Abs, just in time to have missed all the hard work!"

Abbie scoffed. "Please Ben, I just spent ten hours serving coffee and burgers, don't tell me about hard work... And I brought food, so be nice, or I keep all the grease to myself."

The brunette tried her most innocent look. "You wouldn't do that, would ya? I mean, I'm your bestest bud in the whole world. Besides, I'm sure your cute little buns wouldn't appreciate all that fat...", with that the reporter nicked a fry, dodging the wet dishtowel that was snapped in her direction.

"You better watch it Benson, no one likes a smart mouth", the Texas born threatened.

Olivia just grinned, taking three plates from the cupboard. No one could get her out a funk better than the other woman. Once they had set the table, Abbie knocked on Casey's door.

"Casey, dinner's ready."

"I'm coming, give me two minutes", a disembodied voice could be heard through the wood.

The two women exchanged a look, and sat down, helping themselves to some of the food Abbie had brought back with her from the diner. Casey time was a bit different from regular time.

Olivia was munching on a lukewarm burger, while Abbie was just picking some fries.

"Liv?", the Texan asked.

"Yesh Absh?", Olivia replied through a mouthful of burger.

"I need to get back to the diner tonight. Do you want to come with me?"

Olivia hesitated while swallowing. "Let me guess, tonight is country night?"

'Country night' was the euphemism they used for the weekly semi-private dance that took place in the backroom of the diner where Abbie worked. After Olivia had introduced the Texan to the woman that was now her boss, the two women and lots of their friends had often met at the diner. Sometimes, when the place had gotten too crowded, the dusty room in the back had been opened. From time to time, one of the guests had started to play on the out-of-tune piano, and when Abbie hadn't been too busy serving drinks, she had started to sing along, her soft southern twang earning her the admiration of many a woman. Finally Abbie had asked her boss a favour, promising eternal gratitude and some nice additional revenues. From that point onwards, the backroom was opened four to five times a month, by word-of-mouth attracting a very diverse crowd of freams and bohemians from the whole Village, the majority of them women who were... different... In lots of ways. The piano had been tuned, and Abbie now regularly performed, her weakness for country music coining the gathering's moniker.

Olivia was a frequent guest, she enjoyed the relaxed and intimate atmosphere, and the chance to meet women who shared her... preferences.

"Come on, Ben, Liz asked for you in particular. Apparently, you are good for business."

"You know how to make it sound so tempting", Olivia finally said. In truth, she was tempted. Drinks and maybe the company of some nice, interested, blonde, blue-eyed woman - God where had that come from? - sounded perfect. But she'd make the other woman beg her a little more, docile Abbie was so much fun.

"I don't know Abs, I'm really tired."

"Please Livvy", big dark eyes looked at her with the saddest puppy dog expression she had ever seen.

Olivia smiled at the dark-haired woman. No doubt that Abigail Carmichael was a beauty. In fact, that had been the first thing Liv had thought about the other girl, back when she had met her in high-school. That and _"please, not another stuck-up cheerleader"_.

It had been at the beginning of her final year in school. Mr. Robbins had entered the classroom, the pretty girl in tow.

"_Class, I want you to meet Miss Abigail Carmichael. Abigail just transferred in from Texas. I am sure she misses her friends back home, so I want you on your best behaviour and make her feel welcome. Imagine being in her place... Now, Abigail, why don't you sit down...", his eyes went over the seated pupils in front of him. "sit down next to Miss Benson." He gestured towards an empty seat - the only empty seat - in the second row. _

_Abigail nodded, trotting towards the empty chair, clutching her book bag in her hands, eyeballing the girl that had been the only one without a neighbour. Dark eyes looked at her from underneath brownish bangs, and lankish arms sticking out of a well-worn shirt cleaned the desktop for her._

"_Thank you", she said politely. The other girl just nodded once, before returning her attention to the book in front of her. Abbie shrugged. She didn't plan on hanging out with such a grody girl anyway._

_Two days later, Abbie knew enough about the other kid to know that her first opinion had been accurate. Miss Benson - or Olivia as she had found out – was a loner. In each classroom Abbie had to take the seat next to her, because it was always the last seat left. From the gossip she had overheard, Olivia was raised by her single mother, no father in sight. She was a tomboy, her knees scraped, her skirt a little torn in some places. She only opened her mouth when the teachers asked her something, but then her answers were surprisingly intelligent. Still, not the kind of company Abbie was interested in. Unfortunately for her, most of the city kids didn't seem too interested in spending time with the Texan girl either. She swallowed a sigh, carrying her tray over to the table where the cheerleaders were eating their lunch._

"_I'm sorry, is this seat taken?", she asked, nodding towards one of the obviously free chairs._

_Jennifer Miller looked at her with disdain. "As a matter of fact it is. Why don't you find some barn, I'm sure your lunch would be much tastier there, Texas", she looked away, her fan club giggling in delight. _

_Abbie turned on her heels, fighting against the tears that wanted to escape her. She hated it here! She wished her father hadn't died in WWII, or that her mother had been able to keep the ranch on her own. But no, Mrs. Carmichael had sold the land and married a Yank, Mr. MacIntosh, who took his new wife and her two kids with him to New York. Abbie had loved her father. And she had loved Texas. Life on a ranch was what she was used to. The kids back home had respected her, probably because her father had owned one of the biggest ranches there, AND he had been a war hero. She had been head cheerleader, and homecoming queen. But these stupid New Yo..._

_  
"You can sit with me", a quiet voice interrupted her inner rant._

_Abbie looked up from her tray in astonishment. There was Olivia Benson, burger in one hand, algebra book in the other, looking up at her with a sympathetic smile on her face. The new girl nodded gratefully, plopping down across the table from the sitting girl, facing her._

"_Don't let 'em bug you, they're not worth it", Olivia offered._

_And that had been the beginning of the friendship between the two outsiders, both shunned for their origins, but both of them glad to find solace in someone sharing their fate. _

_Yes, they had been best friends ever since, much to the chagrin of Abbie's mother._

"_Really Abigail, I don't understand why you have to meet with that Benson girl. Mrs. Kennedy told me all about Mrs. Benson when I met her at the shop yesterday. I don't want you hanging around that kind of people, they are some bad crowd", Mrs. Carmichael-MacIntosh told her daughter._

"_Momma, that is not Olivia's fault. And you know what they taught us in Sunday school, we should care for those that are less privileged than we are", Abbie reproached her with a serious face, fighting off the grin that was threatening to overwhelm her. There was no chance her momma wouldn't take that bait. _

_Mrs. Carmichael-MacIntosh blushed. "Of course, dearest, you are absolutely right. We should pray for that poor girl and open our door and hearts to her."_

_And so Olivia became a regular fixture at the MacIntosh household, visiting Abbie whenever she pleased, while Mrs. CM, as the girls secretly called her, was happy to tell all her friends about the little mongrel that she and her husband fed. _

_Their careless time together ended two weeks before graduation. Mrs. CM had forgotten her purse, and had hence returned earlier from her shopping trip than planned. She knocked on Abbie's door, but entered without bothering to wait for a reply, only to find her only daughter practicing french-kissing with the tousled looking brunette, who had sneaked her hand underneath the raven-haired's skirt._

_Suffice it to say that from that point onwards, neither Olivia's face nor the mention of her name was welcome at the MacIntosh home any longer._

_Abbie, who had applied to several colleges in New York, and only pro forma to the University of Texas, was shipped off to Texas two days after she graduated. The rest of the MacIntoshs soon followed, Olivia suspected because Mrs. CM was scared of her daughter's salvation, but Abbie wrote in a letter, that Mr. MacIntosh seemed to have taken an interest in the petroleum industry._

_They hadn't lost contact though, writing long letters, in which Abbie told Olivia about life on campus and Olivia told Abbie about her constantly changing jobs and the people she met, knowing that the Texan beauty enjoyed the adventurous sounding tales of Olivia the car mechanic, or Olivia the waitress, or Olivia the photographer, or simply Olivia the Casanova... _

_They hadn't seen each other for nearly three years. Olivia had just fallen asleep after a night of wild sex with a formerly inhibited girl she had met at a bar._

"_I come home after three years, and I find you in bed with another woman. Really Ben, that is mighty bad style...", a velvety voice coming from her doorway woke her up._

_Olivia nearly jumped, completely taken by surprise, not even bothering to pull the covers up._

"_Abs? Is that you? What are you doing here?", she looked at the well-dressed woman, who still looked so much like the girl that had left her, then at the two suitcases next to her._

"_It's a really long story, and I'm really tired, would you mind sending your dolly home", Abbie sighed._

_The blonde woman at Olivia's side who had scrambled to cover herself when she had heard another voice bristled. "Hey, Miss, I don't know who you are but..."_

_  
"Lisa", Olivia cut in. "Baby, I'm sorry, this is an old friend that I haven't seen in ages, would you mind leaving us alone?"_

_Lisa stared at her, not believing her ears. Finally accepting that Olivia was as serious as a heart attack she scoffed and gathered her clothes._

"_Don't bother to call me", she threw over her shoulder and slammed the door._

_Olivia sighed. "Thank God I neither have a telephone nor her number."_

_Then she got out of bed, hugging her visitor fiercely. "Oh Abs, I've missed you so much."_

_Abbie fought against her tears, returning the hug. "I missed you too, Ben. And I missed that..." With that she slapped Olivia's bare butt lightly. _

_Olivia chuckled, finally noticing her nudity, and grabbed a pair of pyjamas, throwing them on. "Come to the kitchen, I'll make us some coffee. How late is it? And how on earth did you get into my apartment?"_

_Abbie left her luggage, and followed the brunette. "It's six o'clock. Your landlord was nice enough to open your door for me, when I told him I was your cousin and you had forgotten to pick me up at the train station."_

_Olivia tutted. "Honestly Abbie, what would your momma say if she heard that her beloved daughter was spouting off lies. I bet there would be a bar of soap waiting for you."_

_Abbie turned serious at the mention of her mother. "My mother is one of the reasons I came here in the first place, Ben. I'm 21, my mother can no longer tell me what to do."_

_Olivia gestured for her to sit down. "But I thought school only ends next month."_

_The dark-haired woman sighed. "It does... I got ejected."_

_Olivia turned on her heels, staring at the other woman._

"_What?"_

_Abbie laughed mirthlessly. "Yeah, turns out, if you are a guy raping a freshman you get away with a slap on the wrist, but if you are a girl sleeping with your female literature prof, they throw you out."_

_Olivia still stared, not knowing what to say. "What???"_

_So Abbie told her all about the little, or not so little things, she had left out in her letters. How her parents had more or less forced her to go out on dates with boys, trying to convince her, that Olivia had just been a phase. How one of these dates had not respected her boundaries and had touched her against her will. How she had fallen in lust with a teacher that was barely older than herself. And how she had managed to get herself kicked out of school and cut out of her parents' will, had packed up her possessions, and had taken the first train up north._

"_Oh Abbie...", Olivia pulled the shaking woman into another hug, their coffee forgotten. "I am so sorry."_

_Abbie sniffled a little into the other woman's shirt before releasing the embrace. "Well at least I'm free to do what I want now. I mean, you know Mrs. CM. I still love her, but she would never let me be who I really am." She scoffed. "You know what she told me when we were all called to the dean's office? She said she couldn't believe her pure little angel was not pure anymore. The only reason that 'I am not pure anymore' is because of that shithead that didn't take no for an answer, not because of Miss Fisher. But she would never understand."_

_Olivia decided it was time to lighten the heavy mood a little. "I hate to disappoint you Abs, but I think you haven't been pure since that thing we did on the backseat of your step-daddy's car."_

_Abigail stared at her, until a look of remembrance crossed her face, and she smiled for the first time in what had seemed like weeks "you got a point there. Back seat bingo with you sure was fun!"_

_When they were lying next to each other in Olivia's bed an hour later, Abbie couldn't help but snuggle in. A lot had happened, but it felt so darn good to see her tightest friend again, and to have a sleep-over._

"_How'd you get that chick into your bed anyway?", she asked, referring to Liv's earlier guest._

_Liv smiled rakishly against the dark hair. "I met her at a bar last night, told her I was a photographer." _

_Abbie laughed. "And you forgot to mention that you are lucky if you sell one picture per month and that the rest of the time you help out at 'Willy's garage'?"_

_Olivia shrugged. "I might have forgotten that, yes..."_

_A month later they had moved into a bigger apartment together, and Abbie had found a job as a waitress at Donnelly's._

"OLIVIA BENSON!"

"Huhm?", the woman in question answered, torn out of her trip down memory lane by the sudden sound.

"Would you please give in already, I've been begging you for two minutes straight, and you are not even listening!" Abbie exclaimed, puppy dog having been replaced by bulldog.

Olivia blushed. "Uhm, alrighty then. Count me in."

* * *

Yes I know, not much AO in here, but I am just setting the scene, so patience grasshoppers! Besides, writing Liv-Abbie interactions is huuuge fun! Hope you had a little fun reading it as well.


	4. Country Night

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, well except for all typos and mistakes.

**Spoilers:** None

Here's the new chapter, which more or less concludes the introduction/ first act of the story.  
Thanks for all your reviews, enjoy, and please let me know what you think!

* * *

After Casey had joined them for dinner, Olivia got up to do the dishes. Since Abbie had done the 'cooking', she leaned back in her chair, eying the redhead who had decided to forgo the rest of her cold fries and was now munching on an apple.

"Say Case, Ben and I are going to the diner. You coming with?"

Casey grimaced. "Country night?"

Abbie nodded enthusiastically.

Casey shrugged. "I don't know Abbie, it's not really my kind of thing."

The Texan looked disappointed. "But Casey, who's going to dance with me if you're not there?"

The younger woman rolled her eyes. "Please, I know there are dozens of girls waiting in line for you to even look at them. I'm sure you won't even notice I'm not there." With that she rose, threw her apple core in the trash and her dirty dishes in the sink, kissing Olivia's cheek and said. "Thanks for dinner and cleaning up, have fun tonight ladies, try to be quiet when you're coming back, would ya?"

She disappeared into her room. As soon as the door had closed, the radio began playing again.

Abbie, who had been staring at the door turned around, only to find a smirking brunette leaning over the sink.

"What?", she asked irritably.

Olivia chuckled. "Abs, darling, why don't you just ask her out?"

Abbie stilled before nonchalantly saying "I have no idea what you are talking about."

Olivia turned around, her gaze serious. "Abbie, I've known you for years. I have seen you in relationships, heck I've BEEN in a relationship with you. But I've never seen you act that way around anyone else. I know you've been hoping for more than friendship since she moved in with us."

The raven-haired woman looked away. "Casey knows I'm interested. And she's never... I mean, you were here when I just asked her out, you saw how she reacted."

Olivia shook her head, wiping her hands on a dishtowel before sitting down. "Darn Carmichael, sometimes I forget that you were raised in a barn." She hold up her hand to stop the other woman's outburst. "don't take it personally. Asking her to join you while you're working and making the dolls cheer for you does not constitute a date. And no, she does not know how you feel. She's only ever been with men, as you know, and she had to leave her last apartment because of that psychotic ex-boyfriend of hers. I don't think she even realises that another woman could show an interest in her, especially not 'Miss Love 'em and Leave 'em'. I'm pretty sure she thinks you are only flirting with her to fluster her."

Abbie had grown quiet, contemplating what Olivia had just told her. Finally she nodded. "Maybe you're right, Benson. Maybe I should take her out to some nice place. Court her a little. God, I can't believe I'm actually thinking about following you advice. When did you get so darn insightful?"

Olivia grinned, pecked Abbie on the crown of her head and headed towards her own room. "I've always been insightful. You're just too stubborn to listen to me. Get ready, your fan club is waiting for its star"

Forty-five minutes later they arrived at the diner, where an impatient Liz was already waiting for them, ushering them through to the back. Contrary to the front part of the diner, which was brightly illuminated and occupied with teenagers besieging the jukebox, the crowd that had entered the diner from the rear entrance was slightly older, definitely less cool, a little more subdued and on average more female. While Abbie was getting ready to perform a couple of songs, Olivia sat down at a table, eying tonight's guests. There were quite a few familiar faces, she nodded at a couple of them, and a few women she had never seen before.

A bottle of Budweiser was placed in front of her. She nodded gratefully at the older woman sitting down across the table from her and took a long drag.

"Thanks, you have no idea how much I needed that."

Elizabeth Donnelly smiled dryly. "I can guess... Not that you don't look good", she looked at the younger woman's outfit consisting of jeans, trainers, a white man's shirt under a black leather jacket, and slicked back hair, "in fact, I bet thanks to you I'll be selling a lot more drinks tonight, but you do look tired. Everything alright?"

Olivia looked at the woman who was currently watching her with imploring eyes. Damn, she sometimes forgot how good Liz was at reading people. It probably came with the territory, owning a restaurant meant looking out for troublemakers and reading the clients' wishes before they even expressed them.

She had met Mrs. Donnelly a few years back. Elliot had brought her to the diner after they had written their first article together. Liz Donnelly had been a friend of the Stabler family for decades, her deceased husband and Elliot's father had come to New York on the same ship from Ireland. The Donnelly's had never been able to have children of their own, and so Elliot had always been a surrogate son, while Olivia and later Abbie had become the daughters Liz never had. The journalist couldn't hide much from the older woman, and she remembered several occasions where Liz had dressed her down as only a mother would.

"I interviewed Congressman Langan today, which was utterly boring. Met his wife though. Seems nice enough."

Liz nodded, keeping her thoughts to herself. She had seen the change in Abbie, taking home less and less girls after her new flatmate had moved in. Seemed like Cupid's arrow had finally hit the Texas native, and apparently now it was Olivia's turn to have a crush. Of course, Olivia's statement had been innocent enough. But Elizabeth had seen the faraway look in the brown eyes at the mention of Langan's wife, and she had heard the slight hitch in her voice when Olivia had tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. But Liz would not be the one to point this out to Olivia, this was something that the brunette would have to find out on her own.

"Well I think for putting up with some slimy politician you have definitely earned yourself a beer", she said, raising from the chair. "Ah, the show's about to start. The vultures, sorry, Abigail's fans are gathering."

Olivia chuckled. For someone as straight laced as Liz, who had been married to an Irish catholic for over thirty years, the ash blonde was amazingly tolerant towards the lifestyle of her guests and employees.

While the owner of the establishment left the backroom, the reporter sat back, enjoying the show. Abbie was good, there was no doubt. Her husky voice, the slight Southern drawl which perfectly complemented her Southern Belle outfit earned her a lot of appreciative glares and rounds of thunderous applause. Olivia who had listened to Abbie perform (be it at the diner or in their kitchen) more often than she could count, let her eyes sweep over the crowd.

When her eyes fell on a lonely blonde woman at the counter she downed the rest of her beer, before standing up. She moved next to the woman, motioning for Becky, Abbie's colleague, to give her another. When she felt a curious gaze on her neck she turned around, facing the now blushing blonde.

"Hey", she said.

"Hello", the blonde giggled.

Olivia froze for a second, glad when Becky put down a beer in front of her.

"Thank you", she said before turning back to the blonde. "Have a nice evening." With that she left the counter, moving back to her table, leaving a disappointed blonde behind.

When Olivia sat down, she nearly downed the beer in one big gulp. What the heck had just happened? She had been about to chat up a possible one-night stand and suddenly all she could think about was that the other woman's eyes were green, not blue, and that her voice had been all wrong, too high and too giggly. Where on earth had that come from?

* * *

Oh, someone is confused... In case Olivia's confusion is contagious, let me tell you a good way to spend the night: by pressing that button and sharing some feedback with me, yes? Please?


	5. Invitation

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, well except for all typos and mistakes.

**Spoilers:** None

The new chapter, finally. Unfortunately, my muse does not work chronlogically on this story, so even though I've already written some later parts of the fic, the next chapter always takes some time.

Again, thank you for your feedback, it is always appreciated! But now enjoy!

* * *

A week had passed since their night out at the diner. After a slightly buzzed Olivia had brought her totally blitzed flatmate home, she had had a hard time getting up the next morning, especially since her dreams had been full of haunting ice-blue eyes. When she had arrived at the newsroom she had been slightly hung-over and mighty grumpy, but had somehow managed to finish her article, sending the written interview to Mr. Langan, who had been delighted with the result. Now, six days later, Olivia was again at work, leaning over Elliot's desk to help her colleague choose a picture for the cover story they had just witten.

"Olivia", her boss called.

She turned around. "Yes?"

He approached them. "I just got off the phone. Seems like you made quite the impression, Trevor Langan asked for your services again."

"Uhhh, partner, what did ya do to make the Ivy Leaguer like you? I thought he was all against women on the job", Stabler teased.

Olivia shrugged. "I was my usual charming self, except I kept my mouth shut."

Cragen looked at his two subordinates. "Well, whatever you did, do it again. Tomorrow, the Congressman is throwing a bash trying to find more donors for his campaign, and he wants you to cover it, write a nice article about all the important people supporting him, you know the drill. So try to rescue that long forgotten dress from the back of your closet and make yourself presentable Benson, because you are going to see how the upper crust parties."

Olivia groaned, and Elliot had to bite back a chuckle. Olivia and dresses just didn't mix well, even though she sure as heck had the body to wear them, but that was obviously another thing he better kept to himself.

"If I have to", she said gruffly. The thought entered her mind that seeing Mr. Langan would undoubtedly include seeing Mrs. Langan. Suddenly the idea of dressing up and spending time with a bunch of squares didn't seem so unpleasant anymore. She had to keep herself from starting to smile sillily, she didn't want to appear too eager.

On the other side of town, someone seemed anything but eager.

"I don't understand why you had to ask for her, Trevor. I told you, I didn't like her", an exasperated Alex tried to tell her husband as politely as possible.

"Honey, you said it yourself, it was just a feeling. And you have to admit, her article was pretty good. According to Jack it got us at least an additional five percents in the current polls. And she was very polite and only asked appropriate questions. You wouldn't believe how many reporters are just out for blood", Trevor replied, his voice taking on that paternal 'honey I know what's best for you' quality.

Only 25 years of upper class education and living kept Alexandra from rolling her eyes.

"Honey", she enunciated the word in a way that cynics might have considered equally condescending as her husband's earlier tone. "That is because YOU paid her. She wouldn't bite the hand that feeds her. I am rather sure that if it weren't for your generous donations to her paper, she would have asked a lot less appropriate and much more uncomfortable questions."

Trevor furrowed his brows. "Alexandra, you are imagining things. Have you read one of these horrible murder mysteries again? I was under the impression that Ms. Benson was genuinely interested in what I had to say. And even in the unlikely case that she wasn't, she still did a good job. You know that this year the competition is high, and positive publicity is crucial to my re-election. Jack told me that having a paper on our side could be the key to success. And I trust him, he never steered me wrong in that way."

His wife took a deep breath. Jack McCoy, her husband's campaign manager was one of her least favourite persons. Apart from the fact that he was never taking any of her ideas or concerns serious, he also had an unhealthy obsession with her cleavage. She tried a last approach.

"Darling, I understand that the loyalty of the NY Express is important. But why not ask for a different reporter? I mean, a woman? Isn't one of the main points of your campaign to convince women that their place is at home, providing a loving home for their husband and children? How would it look to the voters if, at the same time, you are paying a woman to work in a man's profession?"

Mr. Langan looked surprised. "You are right, I do think that it's a woman's privilege to stay at home and nurture a family. But even though I don't personally agree with Ms. Benson's choice of lifestyle, it is not my place to judge her. She does a good job at the paper. It's unfortunate that she deprives society of her children, but who knows, maybe she will meet the right man one day. A man that might even encourage her to keep working. And really, it is none of our business. My decision is final darling, I wanted the best, and Mr. Cragen indeed provided me with the best, even though it came in a surprising package."

Alex gave up. Trevor would not be deterred. And she couldn't very well tell him the truth.

"_No darling, I don't want her to come, because the last time I saw her I couldn't sleep for hours as I kept hearing her voice inside my head." _

No, that wouldn't go down too well...

* * *

So, what do you think, time for them to meet again, right? Let me know...


	6. Party

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, well except for all typos and mistakes.

**Spoilers:** None

I am sorry it took me so long to update, this chapter just didn't work out the way I wanted it to. The next one is already in the making, I hope it'll be done soon. Thank you so much for all your kind reviews, I hope you enjoy the read!

* * *

Olivia sighed and took another glass of champagne one of the waiters offered her. She wished Elliot could have come with her, or even Munch, but Cragen had been adamant. Elliot was still working on the Broadway strangler case, a serial killer who was targeting actresses. The police had scheduled a press conference for later that evening, and Elliot was supposed to be on standby. As for Munch, since the introduction of his weekly 'How the state cheats you' column two years earlier, he was excused from attending any high society functions.

She sipped on her champagne, looking around. It had been two hours since she had arrived, a welcoming Janet escorting her inside. Trevor had greeted her, telling her to "enjoy herself". She had talked to some of New York's most influential and rich citizens, trying to hide the feeling of not belonging behind a fake smile and her notebook. Most of the guests seemed rather taken with the young reporter though, and she had had to listen to Arthur Branch's lengthy explanation of what was wrong with today's society, the wealthy bank director glad to have found a willing victim for his rants.

Mr. Langan was busy shaking hands, being all smiles, leaving charmed voters in his wake. At the moment he seemed deeply immersed in a conversation with a young redhead, who was following his every word.

As for Mrs. Langan, if Olivia didn't know any better she would have thought that the hostess was avoiding her. Wherever the reporter went, Alexandra always seemed to be on the other side of the room, talking to potential investors, gossiping with their wives, or urging her guests to take another drink.

Which was fine by Liv, after seeing the blonde in her evening gown, she was pretty darn certain she wouldn't have been able to hold a conversation anyway. In fact, it had taken her a lot of conscious effort and iron will to close her mouth and stop drooling when she had first laid eyes on the other woman that evening. Alexandra was wearing a long gown in dark green lace, the tulle-lined hem making her look like a mermaid. Her blonde hair was curled at the ends, held together by a simple, yet elegant hair clasp. Again, pearls adorned her neck.

So Olivia was indeed quite happy admiring the hostess from afar. But from time to time she couldn't shake the feeling of eyes silently following her, though whenever she turned around the blonde was paying attention to someone else.

Alex nearly stumbled over Janet, who was helping the two additional waiters to serve the drinks. Ms. Benson had almost caught her looking. Again. Why hadn't she convinced Trevor to hire someone else? Someone who didn't manage to pull off the scruffy, tight pants wearing reporter-look as well as the asymmetric black cocktail dress clad exotic beauty style. She still didn't understand what was wrong with her. She had never reacted that way to another woman before. Of course, she had noticed when another woman looked especially fine, mostly out of jealousy or just appraisal for the competition, but she had never felt this... warmth at the sight.

"Hi."

Alex nearly cursed. Lost in thought about the brunette she hadn't payed attention to where she was going, running straight into the same woman she was trying to avoid.

"Ms. Benson", she greeted, polite but distant.

"Uhm, thank you for the invitation, this is a very interesting party", Olivia replied, trying to sound a little less like a teenage boy and a little more like a seasoned reporter.

Mrs. Langan relaxed slightly. Polite smalltalk, that was something she was good at.

"Thank you. It is nice to see that so many old friends could stop by, and I am even more delighted to see that my husband's campaign also attracts some new supporters", the blonde answered.

Olivia groaned inwardly. Zero to full husband worship in less than one sentence.

"He sure has some impressive followers", she said diplomatically. "I talked to Mr. Branch earlier, and I also met Mr. and Mrs. Petrovsky, the founders of the 'NY Youth Academy for Troubled Girls'. I am sure that his campaign will be a success, with supporters of that caliber."

Alex looked at her critically. She couldn't stop herself. "And how does that make you feel?"

"Pardon?", Olivia wasn't sure she understood the question.

"Trevor's impending success. In case he gets elected, what do you think? Is he your candidate of choice?", the socialite inquired.

Olivia looked highly uncomfortable, trying to find a way to escape without having to answer. Unfortunately there was none.

"I am not a very political person Mrs. Langan. I haven't yet made up my mind who I am going to vote for."

Alex looked sceptically. "You don't seem uninformed or ignorant Ms. Benson. You interviewed my husband, so you should be familiar with his campaign and his political goals. Do you share them?"

Olivia tried to keep her voice low. "Are you questioning my objectivity?"

"Well, how could I not? You are an independent unmarried woman working in a man's profession. Trevor's core values are family. He is convinced that women should stay at home, and care for their families. You work with men mostly, yet Trevor still supports single-sex education. You probably belong to a trade union, Trevor is more interested in the position of the entrepreneurs. Shall I continue? I mean, it is quite obvious that you would never vote for him, so why are you here, writing about a man and a campaign you would never support?", Alexandra asked, her voice quiet as to not be overheard, yet sharp enough to be insistent.

"I'm just here to do my job, I didn't think that my presence would make you uncomfortable", the reporter carefully replied, not sure why she was suddenly under investigation.

"Your presence is not making me uncomfortable! I'm just looking out for my husband's well-being", Alex countered. Her inner voice taunted that Trevor's well-being certainly didn't involve his wife pining for their reporter, but Alex ignored it, focusing on the brunette.

"Rest assured, even though I might not share Congressman Langan's political views, I am professional enough to separate my own convictions from my work. I'm a reporter. I don't judge, I report."

For half a minute none of the women said anything, agitated blue eyes boring into fierce brown ones. The tension crackled, the looks they exchanged electric. Finally, Olivia broke the staring contest before she did something stupid like crashing her lips to that of the other woman in a room full of people.

Alex was the first to recover her voice. "I'm sorry. I'm just trying to protect my family. I didn't want to question your abilities", she apologized.

Olivia shook her head. "It's OK, I can't imagine being under constant scrutiny by the press. It must be hard."

Alex smiled gratefully. "It is hard", she admitted, surprised by her own honesty.

Olivia gave her a sympathetic smile, and for a moment the women just enjoyed the other's presence in silence.

"I should probably make the rounds once more", Alex finally said.

Olivia nodded. "Yes, me too. I am sure that neither my boss nor your husband are just paying me for drinking champagne."

"Probably not." For the first time that evening the blonde smiled genuinely. "Doesn't mean you should go home thirsty..." She exchanged Liv's empty glass with a full one, winking at the brunette before heading towards a group of bankers.

Olivia shook her head. That woman was worse than a roller coaster.

* * *

Yeah, as I said, not exactly the way I planned this, but I hope you still enjoyed it, let me know.


	7. Newsroom

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, well except for all typos and mistakes.

**Spoilers:** None

There you go, the next chapter, which might be the last for a couple of days, hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for your feedback so far!

* * *

When Olivia came home from the party she was tired and wound up. The conversation with Mrs. Langan kept playing in her mind. She wondered how many people had been on the receiving end of the blonde's interrogation skills. It seemed like Mr. Langan wasn't the only one in the family with the talent for cross-examinations.

It was funny. Alexandra had been defending her husband and his old-fashioned views, and yet, she had never appeared more independent, cutting, and self-assured to Olivia. There had been a spark in her eyes, a spark that reminded Olivia of a wild feline. They had seemed like magnets, caught between attraction and repulsion.

"You need to get a grip, Benson", she mumbled.

"Talking to yourself again Ben? You know that's a sign of insanity", a smokey voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Jesus, Abs, you scared the shit out of me. What are you doing, sitting in the kitchen in the dark?"

Abbie waved what looked like a spoon in the dark. "Stuffing myself with ice-cream. Casey is on a date with one of the schmucks from her work. Apparently Jeremy from accounting is 'sorta cute'."

Olivia grabbed herself a spoon, plopping down next to Abbie. "I share your pain. Now gimme some of that."

Abigail chuckled. "Such a nice dress, such a foul mood. What's up with you hun?"

Olivia remained mute, scooping up some ice-cream, taking a huge spoonful.

The Texan smiled. "Ahhh, it's a woman."

"I don't want to talk about it", Olivia mumbled.

"Oh yeah, it's a woman alright. Come on Liv, sharing is caring", Abbie tried again.

"Abbie, there is nothing to share. I met someone, but it doesn't matter. There is no chance of anything ever happening", the reporter said.

"Why? She actually has a brain and doesn't fall for your bullshit?", Abbie asked.

Olivia grunted indignantly.

"Ben, come on, you are Olivia Benson, chick magnet and smooth talker. The girls love ya", the dark haired woman tried to be supportive.

"She's different, Abbie. She's not like any of the other girls I've dated. And most of all, she's circled... I won't go there", the brunette replied, her voice barely hiding the underlying sadness.

"Right, too bad you have a conscience and actually respect marriage...", the other woman drawled.

Olivia nodded morosely, eating some more ice-cream.

"So she's one of the rich girls from that fancy party you went to?", Abbie asked, intrigued by the woman who had her self-confident flatmate twisting.

The reporter knew that sooner or later Abbie would find out, the other woman was like a dog with a bone.

"The hostess...", she admitted.

Abigail blinked. "Mrs. Langan? Wife of Congressman Langan?"

Olivia nodded and the younger woman guffawed.

"Oh Benny, forget about her being married. That's the least of your worries. There is no chance in hell that stuck-up WASP might ever be interested in you."

Olivia grimaced. "Thanks Abs, you're a real doll."

–

On Tuesday after the party Olivia was pulled out of her thoughts by a low whistle from Elliot.

"Damn partner, now I know why you didn't mind going to that bash all that much."

She looked up. "What are you talking about, El?"

He nodded towards the blonde who had just entered the newsroom. "That is Mrs. Langan, isn't it?"

Olivia's head whipped around. True enough, there was Alexandra Langan, looking all business like.

She asked one of the hurrying reporters something and he pointed her in the direction of Cragen's office. With long strides she crossed the room, ignoring the looks the reporters sent her way.

Elliot and Olivia exchanged looks and shrugged. Elliot left the room to find himself something to drink while Liv continued to work on her article, only occasionally stealing a glance towards her boss's door.

"Again, thank you Mr. Cragen, my husband has been most pleased", Alex' voice could be heard five minutes later, when she left Cragen's office, the older man in tow.

"Our pleasure Mrs. Langan. Be sure to let him know that he can always count on us if he needs our services", Cragen replied. He wasn't too keen on kissing the politician's behind, but this was for the greater good, namely the survival of the paper, and the check Alexandra had just handed him was more than worth it.

They were torn out of their exchange of compliments by a loud whoop coming from Munch's desk.

"Abigail, be still my heart, have you finally come to agree to my proposal to make an honest man out of me?", the gray-haired reporter asked.

The woman in question laughed and threw him a dazzling smile.

"Munchie, four women have tried and failed. What makes you think I would be crazy enough to get even near you?", she asked.

He feigned to be hurt, before cheekily replying "I don't know, you're from Texas?"

She poked her tongue out at him, before continuing her journey to her destination. Arriving at Olivia's desk, she sat down on the desktop, crumpling a heap of papers in the process. When Olivia looked up indignantly from her typewriter, Abbie grinned and kissed the disgruntled looking woman's nose.

"I brought you lunch, Benny darling", she announced, holding up a paper bag.

Olivia's eyes began to sparkle. "Oh gimme, gimme!"

She tried to reach the bag, failing when Abbie tauntingly pulled it up a little higher. After playing the Texan's game for half a minute, her stomach that was rumbling at the deliciously tempting smell emanating from the bag decided to take what was rightfully hers. She got out of her chair, leaning dangerously close over the other woman, bending her slightly backwards over the table, while her fingers ran along the raven-haired woman's outstretched arm until she reached the hand clutching the bag. With lightening speed she snatched the bag, leaving a dazzled Abbie sitting on her desk.

She sat back down, opening the bag and inhaling the delicious aroma of the fries.

Elliot chose this moment to reenter the room, saw Abbie and his partner, and smelled heavenly grease.

"Oh man, why do you never bring me lunch Abbie?", he complained.

She looked at him. "First of all Stabler, you have your own wife sitting at home that could bring you lunch, and second, I'm not planning on making you clean the bathroom, so consider yourself lucky."

Olivia stopped munching at that, grimacing in distaste at the task waiting at home.

Apparently Elliot had no such restraints. "Oh but I would love to scrub you faucets", he leered. Olivia threw a fry at him, while Abbie raucously laughed.

"In your dreams, Stabler", she replied.

Alex who had been raptly listening to the bantering had to fight a blush. She couldn't believe the scene she had just witnessed. They were all teasing each other like a bunch of siblings, while Cragen watched them with a reprimanding but indulgent smile. The two times she had seen Ms. Benson before, the reporter had never seemed so at ease and comfortable in her own skin. She might be a woman, the only member in a boys' club, but her colleagues treated her like one of them, one of the guys. And who was that Abbie persona? Was she living with the reporter? Was she, good lord, Alex even blushed at the thought, Ms. Benson's girlfriend? Alexandra had heard rumours about these kinds of women. Women who lived and loved like men. Was that the reason that the brunette had laughed at Alex questioning her about a husband?

Alex dared another look, seeing the Southern woman lovingly wipe a smudge of ketchup from the reporter's chin. The blonde immediately turned around to look at Cragen, not ready to face the images the sight provoked.

She hastily bid the editor-in-chief good-bye, before hurrying out of the newsroom.

When Mrs. Langan walked onto the street she took a deep breath, trying to calm her raging nerves. She didn't know what to feel. Of course there was disapproval, and a hinge of disgust, after all, what she had just witnessed violated basically every rule of conduct she had ever been taught, but most of all - and she wasn't ready to admit that, not yet – the most prominent feeling had been jealousy. Jealousy that there was someone, a woman like herself, living her life without giving a darn about society's expectations. Someone with a job she loved, with colleagues who were like brothers, someone whom people respected for who she was, not because of her parents or husband, someone who was still happy about such simple things as a bunch of fries and a hotdog in a little paper baggie. But the most unsettling part was, that quite a substantial amount of Alexandra's jealousy was directed towards a dark-haired Texan, who had so seemingly effortlessly made the brunette smile, and probably had a much more intimate knowledge of the reporter than anyone else in that room.

–

Meanwhile inside the newsroom...

"So, was that the one?", Abbie inquired.

"Hmm?", Olivia asked back, her mouth full.

Abbie shot her a disapproving look. "The blonde who just rushed out of the room as if the devil had bitten her cute little behind, is that the broad you've been pining over?"

"I haven't been, oh forget it...", Olivia tried to protest. "And yes, that was her, even though she did not run out of here."

The younger woman chuckled. "Oh yes she did, which honestly was a relief because I was a little scared that her looks would kill me."

"What are you talking about Abs?", the reporter asked, trying to make sense out of her flatmate's comments.

"Come on Ben, you didn't notice?", Abbie scoffed. "When I sat down on your desk the look in her eyes was positively murderous."

"You're completely bonkers!", Olivia exclaimed.

"I'm not", Abbie denied. "She looked like she was a starving woman and I had just eaten the last piece of cake." She watched Olivia with a contemplating look on her face. "You know, I might have been wrong. Maybe the fact that she's married IS the only thing that stands between you and her."

* * *

So, seems like our favourite ladies have realized some things. Time for some nice reviews, don't you think. Please?


	8. Conversations with friends

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, well except for all typos and mistakes.

**Spoilers:** None

I'm so sorry, guys, somehow giving a talk and travelling to a conference not only knocked out my muse, but didn't leave me any time to get some writing done. But now that the heatwave keeps me awake at night, I present you chapter 8, which gives us a little insight into Alex' past. Enjoy, and please let me know what you think!

* * *

**Conversations with friends**

"Alexandra Louise Cabot!"

"What?" Alex twitched, torn out of her stupor by the stern voice of the woman sitting on the other side of the table.

Serena eyed her lunch partner with a slightly exasperated yet amused look.

"Didn't they teach you not to say 'what'?", she asked, her left eyebrow raised.

"Yes they did, and if I remember correctly you were sitting right next to me, making fun of Mrs. Morningside, while she droned on about the 'proper way a young lady should behave'. And in case you've missed it, it's Langan now, not Cabot", the blonde huffed.

Serena grinned. "I know. Which is why I called you that at least three times before I thought it was time for a more radical approach and tada, still works like a charm, even after you no longer live under your mother's roof. By the way, how is Mrs. Cabot?"

"She's doing well. Last time we spoke, she and papa were thinking about spending some time on the seaside", Alex replied.

"Good", Serena nodded, "glad to hear that. Now, do you want to tell me why you've been staring at your soup for five minutes straight?"

Alexandra put down her spoon and sighed. "It's stupid. I recently met someone and now I'm confused. I don't know Rena... It started something in me. I suddenly find myself thinking about things I thought I had accepted years ago, and asking myself questions I had never even considered."

"Oh my god, you have a crush!", Serena exclaimed excitedly.

"Hush!", Alex reproached, looking around the restaurant. "And no, I do not have a crush. Nothing of that sort, I am talking about a woman."

"So?", Serena said, waggling her eyebrows.

Alex looked scandalized. "Excuse me?"

The other blonde shrugged. "What? I kept telling you to join the netball team, but no, you insisted on choosing the riding and debate club as your extracurricular activities."

Alex was speechless. Finally she shook her head. "Never mind, I don't even want to ask... But no, no crush."

Serena looked at her best friend whom she had known since they were toddlers. To the outside world Alexandra Cab... pardon, Langan seemed to always be perfectly in control of herself and her life. Perfect family, perfect childhood, perfect college degree, and now the perfect husband. Yes, Alex' life seemed like a dream to some, but Serena had seen the occasional crack in the flawless facade. She smiled in remembrance. The first time she had witnessed Alexandra's stubborn streak, they had been four years old. While playing on the large grounds of the Cabot's summer home, Alex had found a small bird with a broken wing. Of course her mother had a strict policy against taking strays in, but Alex had been adamant. Either the bird could stay in her room while she nursed it back to health, or Alex would camp outside. Mrs. Cabot had thrown a fit but at the end of the day there had been a little cage on the night table between Alex'a and Serena's bed, where "Piggie" had been allowed to stay. Of course, this hadn't been the only time young Alex had been a little rebellious. There had been the school dance, where she had smacked Bobby Marshall from the nearby all boys' school, when he had kissed their friend Veronica against her will, or the protest she had initiated when the school administration had tried to fell a group of centuries-old oaks.

But this was the first time in ages, that Serena had seen her friend so distraught.

"OK, so what is it about that woman that's got you all balled up?", Serena asked.

Alex sighed, once more looking around to make sure they weren't overheard.

"I don't know. I mean, I li... love Trevor and he's a good man and husband. But, lately I've been thinking about how it would have been to work as a teacher. Or how it is to live on your own. You know how it is, we lived at home with our parents, in boarding school, in the college dorm, and now with our husbands. How does it feel to have an apartment for yourself, to wake up in the morning and do whatever you please without being accountable to anyone? This reporter that Trevor hired to cover his fundraiser, you know, the one you couldn't come to, she's so different. She is completely independent. I mean, she's not even married, and she actually told me she liked it. And the strange thing is, looking at her I believe her. She has a job she's really good at, and the men she works with seem to really like, and what's even more important, respect her. I've seem them together. They were like a bunch of boys, completely carefree, not thinking about what others would think of their behaviour. I don't think I've ever done anything in my life without hearing my mother's voice in the back of my mind, telling me to think about the consequences...", Alex drifted off, not sure how to put her feelings into words.

Serena eyed her friend, surprised at the sudden flood of raw emotion and doubts pouring out of the usually rational blonde. She wasn't sure what to say. They both knew what society expected of them, and they had for as long as she could remember. When Alex had announced her engagement to Trevor, no one had been surprised. Even though she wouldn't go as far as saying that the marriage had been arranged, the fact that Trevor was an old friend of the family, and that his father had worked with Mr. Cabot for years, spoke for itself. Their friends from college had been all fired up, after all, Trevor was successful, handsome, and wealthy, the perfect catch. Alexandra had never shared their enthusiasm though, she had seemed pleased but held none of the girly excitement one expected a future bride to have. Instead, the wedding had been an elegant, expensive but rather level-headed affair, similar to how their daily life turned out to be as well. While Trevor's career prospered, Alex made sure to have his back, providing the perfect home. She never complained, but Serena had seen the tired looks sometimes, the nearly clinical routine with which Alex fulfilled her duties as a loving housewife. There was no discontentment. But there also wasn't the passion Alex had shown in school while arguing about her favourite French books, or the lightness Serena had witnessed when they had lain in their beds during the holidays, whispering their most secret wishes into the darkness of Alexandra's lilac bedroom.

No, Serena mused, melancholy had replaced the childish enthusiasm, but here, in the middle of one of New York's best restaurants, her oldest friend sounded no less longing than when she had described her hope to one day see the Eiffel tower at the age of twelve.

She decided to lighten the mood a little.

"Oh darling, why do I suddenly think a crush would be so much easier to deal with."

The unladylike scowl on Alex' feature would have made Mrs. Morningside throw a fit.

–

Meanwhile across town...

Olivia took another sip of her coffee.

"So, how was your date last night?", she inquired.

Casey grimaced. "Urgh, the guy was even draggier than Jeremy. Why do men always think women find endless tales of work entertaining? I mean, OK, if you work in a circus maybe, but accounting?"

Liv shook her head. "Why did you go out with him anyway?"

Casey smiled. "The sacrifices we make for love..."

Olivia looked skeptical. "Come on Casey, you're a great woman, there is no need for you to become desperate and go out with all these losers."

Casey looked into empathic brown eyes.

"Do you think I am completely oblivious, Olivia?", she asked.

The brunette was confused. "What do you mean."

"Well", the redhead replied, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth, "don't you think I've noticed that Abbie has been flirting with me for months?"

Olivia's eyes widened in surprise. "You know?"

Casey nodded. "Of course I know... But we live together, Liv. I have seen more women coming out of your or Abbie's bedroom than I can count, nor do I want to. I won't be another notch on her bedpost. I hope that there might be more, that she could really imagine being with me, but unless she shows me that she's serious about this, I won't give in. I value our friendship too much to risk it for a fling."

The reporter was currently at a loss for words. How had she missed this?

"But, but, why the guys?", she finally stammered.

Casey chuckled devilishly. "I might be waiting, but I never claimed to be patient. I thought this might push Abbie into finally making a move. I mean, she just needs to ask me out."

Finally Olivia's brain caught up with her and she laughed. "So you're trying to make her jealous?"

The redhead nodded. "And it seems to be working, I bought two containers of ice-cream, and they are both gone."

"You're evil", an amused Olivia chided.

Casey shrugged. "No, I just know what I want."

"And apparently what you want is Abbie. Who would have thought...", Olivia grinned.

Casey smiled back. "Well, let's just say that living with you gals has opened my eyes to new possibilities."

They leaned back and enjoyed their coffee in silence. Suddenly Olivia chuckled.

Casey threw her an imploring look.

"Nothing", Liv said. "I just thought that I'm really going to enjoy seeing you give Tex a run for her money."


	9. Time with Trevor

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, well except for all typos and mistakes.

**Spoilers:** None

I know, I know, it has been ages. But in my defense, I was on the other side of the world attending another conference and I have a major deadline coming up, so time is a rare and precious. But here it is, chapter 9 of the NY Express, which will hopefully put things into gear, you'll see... Thank you so much for your feedback so far, and please do continue, it makes my muse all giddy!

* * *

"What did you do Liv, sleep with him?", Elliot asked his tired looking colleague.

Olivia threw him an annoyed glance. "What are you talking about Stabler?"

She was tired and irritated, even though she had just arrived at work. The last days had been a drag. Nothing much was happening in New York, the Broadway strangler was still on the loose, but everything else had been pretty quiet. The only minor scandal had been caused by Congressman Langan's former business partner, who had been arrested for tax fraud.

Unfortunately for them, Cragen had been forced to let it slip, the publisher had been scared of biting the hand that had been feeding them on occasion. So their whole coverage of the scandal had consisted of a small note on page four, stating that Donald Clarkson, former member of Langan and Clarkson had been arrested for fraud, and that hopefully this would not shed any bad light on the candidacy of such an upstanding citizen who, quote, had been shocked and deeply disappointed on a personal level by such despicable behaviour of a trusted friend, unquote. Other papers had not been so kind, and some expressed significant doubt of the candidate's interpersonal decisions.

Olivia had been furious. She had to write about Trevor and his friends sipping champagne while there were 'real', interesting news about the congressman's inner circle she was forbidden from mentioning. The rest of the editorial staff had tried to stay clear of the moody brunette, who had spent her time writing articles about St. John's school's missing windows and the Bridge club's 50th anniversary, dreading to go home, where the mood had been especially tense.

Casey had been dropping subtle hints to show her interest in the Texan, occasionally adding a remark about the new stud from maintenance, when the subtle approach had not been yielding any results, making Abbie more frustrated by the minute. The raven-haired woman seemed not to understand what the redhead was trying to tell her, and a confused Abbie was a very cranky Abbie.

Finally Olivia had snapped last night when they were completely ignoring each other over dinner, telling them to "get a fricking move on", before heading out, leaving two stunned looking women at the table. That morning, both had been very polite at breakfast, making conversation while stealing furtive glances at each other.

Yes, it hadn't been the best week of Olivia's life, especially since thoughts of a blonde haired beauty seemed to be popping up in her mind at random whenever she had a minute to spare, making her feel very much on edge. And now Elliot was in a cheery mood, trying his best to annoy her...

"Well Langan just came by. Went into Cragen's office. Seems like you must have done something to really impress him, so I thought..."

"See Stabler, that's your problem. You should leave the thinking to people who do actually have a brain", Olivia interrupted him, even though she was secretly curious to hear why Trevor had come by.

Elliot just chuckled. He wasn't exactly sure what had his friend in knots, but he knew it wasn't his fault, and he was convinced a little ribbing would do her some good. Besides, peed off Olivia was fun to watch, well, if you liked living dangerous that is.

Before he could say something else that would end his life prematurely Cragen's door opened and a nearly bald head looked out.

"Ah Olivia, nice to see you joined us, come in, I've got work for you."

The brunette followed her boss and with a last frown in Elliot's direction she disappeared behind the wooden door.

As she entered Trevor, who had been sitting in one of the leather chairs in front of Don's desk, rose to his feet, always the perfect gentleman.

"Miss Benson, how are you doing?", he asked cordially.

"I'm fine, thank you Congressman, how are you?", she replied.

A shadow swept across his handsome features. "Well, I'm sure you've heard about that unfortunate incident with Donald. Even though we haven't worked together since I entered politics it still hurts to see such a good friend lose his way. Also, it's not necessarily helping me win any voters." He looked chagrined. "McCoy, my campaign manager, is worried. And if there's one thing I've learned, if Jack is worried, I should be worried. So I'm following his advice", he stated determined.

The reporter looked at him curiously. "And I guess, this advice involves our paper?"

Suddenly the carefree grin was back. "Exactly Ms Benson, I knew you were a sharp woman, that is why you are perfect for the job. We would like you to provide some positive publicity for us. Show the people the man behind the political front. I'd like you to accompany me for a day or two, and write about what a day in Trevor Langan's life really looks like."

Olivia hid her surprise well. "You mean at home?"

Trevor shrugged. "Not exclusively, I have a couple of speeches I have to give, meetings I have to attend, that sort of thing, and if time allows, yes, why not write a little bit about a normal evening at our house. As I said, you might need two days to get a proper impression, but that shouldn't be a problem, Mr. Cragen just assured me that you are working on nothing of interest at the moment."

Olivia had to fight back a flippant reply at her boss. Sure he was right, at the moment there wasn't much to do, but calling her work unimportant still stung.

"Well, if the boss thinks he can spare me, I'm all yours Mr. Langan", she said in a voice that made the answer (which would have sounded pretty flirty coming from basically any other woman) sound rather sarcastic.

The congressman was oblivious to her sarcasm. "Fantastic!"

"When do you want me to start?", the reporter inquired.

"Oh, I got my car and driver here", Trevor said, sounding very eager. "Why don't you join me for today, and we'll see about tomorrow depending on how this works out?"

The brunette nodded. Not exactly what she had been hoping for when she had prayed for something to do, but at least she'd have something to keep her occupied. Besides, a little voice inside her head taunted, maybe she would see the congressman's wife again. _"Oh shut it"_, she told herself, while nodding her agreement to Trevor.

–

Olivia was feeling mildly disgusted. She had spent the whole day hiding her dislike of political games, pretending to be interested in her surroundings while watching Trevor be the jovial and trustworthy worker from next door at a groundbreaking, the strong but caring leader in a meeting with the big guns of New York's financial world, and the funny and kind family man while visiting the children's hospital wing. Even though she knew that most of his appearance was a facade, she had to admit that he played it well, and that he seemed rather genuine. And yes, it had been interesting to watch him at work, without his wife, using his talents to woo voters and women (for electoral purposes only of course) alike. The thing that was frustrating Olivia, apart from the always present Mr. McCoy's sleezy looks at her chest, was that she would never be able to freely write about what she had witnessed. She didn't even feel the need of slamming Trevor, but praising him to the heavens just because he was financing their current issue just went against everything she believed in. Besides, she had made a few interesting observations, some of them which she might have liked to include in her article, like the fact that quite a few well-known, but ominous people had handed Trevor checks, or that there were only exclusively white Anglo-Americans at all his speeches, and that Langan actually told himself "You'll get them tiger" before entering the stage. Also, there had been more trivial facts, like the observation that Trevor not only seemed to be fond of disgustingly sweet coffee (she already knew that), but that he also secretly made his driver stop at a bakery between speeches to buy some donuts, a guilty pleasure, he told Olivia, that he tried to hide from his wife who always made him eat a little more wholesome foods. Or that the young redheaded woman the reporter had seen at the fund raiser turned out to be Langan's secretary who had been eying the reporter all day, throwing her poisonous looks for some bizarre and unknown reason. Olivia hadn't even talked to the woman, but maybe that had been the issue.

After having one scotch with Langan and his team, who had accepted the reporter's presence in their all male after-work bonding session with indulgent smiles and a few badly concealed attempts at flirting, the congressman had offered Olivia to bring her home.

Since Trevor's last speech had been across town from Olivia's apartment, she had accepted. They were sitting in the luxurious backseat of his black Lincoln limousine while Trevor's driver was steering them through traffic. The reporter was enjoying the passing lights of the city and the soft feel of the leather seats, thinking about how much more comfortable certain activities of her youth would have been on that kind of backseat.

"So, what do you think?", Trevor finally interrupted the silence, sounding like an excited school boy.

"You seem very dedicated to your work", the brunette replied politely.

Mr. Langan waved his hands. "Ah, it might be work sometimes, but it's more. It's a calling I think, and very often even a pleasure."

Olivia inwardly rolled her eyes. Oh great, he actually believed that himself!

Trevor didn't seem to notice her amusement. "Sooo", he said, sitting back in his seat. "now that you've gotten an impression of what I do with my time, how do you feel about doing my wife?"

Olivia was stock still, not believing her ears. "Excuse me?"

* * *

Please, let me know what you think!


	10. Rainy Saturday

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, well except for all typos and mistakes.

**Spoilers:** None

I've been a very busy girl today, and tada, the fruits of my labour, the new chapter. I do have good news and bad news though. Bad news: that's probably the last chapter for this week, since I got tons of work to do. Good news: it's extra long and Alex and Liv are both in it. Thank you so much for following this story, I hope you enjoy the read, feedback is always appreciated!

* * *

_Trevor didn't seem to notice her amusement. "Sooo", he said, sitting back in his seat. "now that you've gotten an impression of what I do with my time, how do you feel about doing my wife?"_

_Olivia was stock still, not believing her ears. "Excuse me?"_

"Well I talked to Jack earlier. Unfortunately our plans for tomorrow have slightly changed. I need to go to a meeting upstate, and it'll probably be absolutely boring for you or your readers, so we thought maybe you could spend the day with my wife instead, and write a little bit about how it is to be a politician's wife, you know, get a little gossip on my little quirks, I'm sure your female readers would love that. Besides, Alexandra is a splendid woman, and many of my voters adore her, so why not include her in the exclusive?", the congressman explained in an excited voice, completely ignoring the 'deer in the headlights' look the reporter was sporting just a few seconds ago (really, Trevor shouldn't say things like that unless he wanted the poor woman to have a heart attack). "Besides", he continued in a conspiratorial tone, "it's the week-end, so she doesn't have many obligations, you ladies might just have a relaxing and entertaining afternoon together."

Olivia, having at last recovered from her earlier shock, looked unconvinced. 'Relaxing' and 'Alexandra Langan' didn't go well together in her opinion. 'Nerve-wracking' and 'utterly exciting' were much more appropriate terms to describe any time spent with the blonde.

"_Oh come off it Benson"_, her inner voice, that always sounded suspiciously like Abigail Carmichael, scoffed_ "as if you wouldn't give your left arm to spend more time with the Missus. It's OK to pretend that you're not all that interested when talking to Trevor, slimy hubby that he is, but between the two of us, there's no need for your little charade. You know, I can feel how moi..."_

"OK sir, I'll do it", Olivia hastily replied, before her inner monologue would get out of hand.

Trevor clapped his hands. "Wonderful", he exclaimed. "I think Alexandra has some business downtown in the morning, so why don't I drop her off at the newspaper on my way out-of-town and you ladies decide what you want to do with the day. I'll probably won't be home for dinner, so you do whatever you want, alright?"

Olivia shuddered. God, the things she _wanted_ to do... OK, it was definitely time to get out of that car, if she wanted to survive tomorrow, she really needed to get rid of this... tension.

Thankfully they were only three blocks away from her apartment, and not even five minutes later, Olivia was home, while Trevor drove home to tell his wife the happy news.

Mrs. Langan was anything but happy when Trevor told her about the plan. She had indulgently listened to her husband telling her about his great day and about how fantastic the exclusive was going to be, but when he had started to explain how tomorrow was going to look like, she looked at him in shock.

"You want that reporter to follow me all day? Trevor, really, I don't think that's appropriate", she said in her sternest voice.

Trevor looked crushed. "Darling, that's really no problem. Ms. Benson is a complete professional, and she's a woman, there is no need for you to be embarrassed."

Alex' eyes flashed. "I'm not embarrassed. But really Trevor, I had plans for tomorrow. I wanted to go to the charity sale, meet Serena for lunch, and probably go to the hairdresser. I don't need a shadow following me all day. Besides, I don't think anyone would be interested in what I do, and it'll probably bore Ms. Benson to tears."

Her husband had recovered some of his charm. "Alexandra darling, you always underestimate yourself. People love you, of course they want to read about how you spend your time. As for Ms. Benson, she had to listen to boring speeches all day, I'm sure having lunch with you and Serena and going to the hairdresser would be much more interesting for her."

Alexandra had to bite her tongue in order to stop herself from laughing out loud. Sure, the hard-nosed reporter who spent her time with her male buddies and her Texan doll would be delighted to listen to gossip and to get a perm. Sometimes Trevor really was naive.

She sighed. She knew there was no chance to make her husband change his opinion, and if she was completely honest, a part of her was thrilled at the thought of seeing the mysterious brunette again. Of course, there was the larger part of her that was completely petrified, but she couldn't very well tell that to Trevor.

"Fine, if it makes you happy", she agreed.

–

Saturday morning came. Olivia entered the newsroom, her hair slightly damp. The weather had changed and it had been raining all night. While the streets were still dripping wet, it was only drizzling now, but it was enough to wet the hair of the woman who firmly believed that umbrellas were for dolls and sissys. Olivia didn't mind though. The fresh air had cleared her mind a little. Abbie and Casey had both been out when she returned home the evening before, and so she had had enough time to 'exorcise her demons' in the privacy of her own bedroom, before falling in a deep, but restless sleep.

She was on edge and she prayed that Elliot or Munch would not tease her, not today.

She needn't have worried. When she saw her colleagues they were currently showing an impeccably dressed blonde around the newsroom, eager like puppies.

Olivia took a deep breath. "Mrs. Langan, boys..."

Three heads whipped around.

"Liv", Munch exclaimed, "there you are, we've been keeping Mrs. Langan company."

"I can see that", Liv replied sardonically. "Good morning Mrs. Langan. I'm sorry you had to wait for me. Shall we?"

Alex nodded silently, not finding the right words. Olivia looked breathtaking. Shaggy wet locks, tight black turtleneck underneath a cream colored trench coat, and that confident set of her jaw made the blonde remember her friend's teasing words _"Oh my god, you have a crush!"_

_"Jesus, get yourself together Cab... Langan"_, she chided herself. Twelve hours, she could do that.

She bid the two male reporters who had entertained her goodbye and followed the brunette outside. Olivia was holding the door open for her, and with a grateful smile she stepped outside, eying the grey sky warily.

"We should probably get a cab, I need to get a few things done, and it looks like it might be raining some more", Alex finally found her voice again.

"Actually I think it's going to clear up later, but a cab sounds good", Olivia replied, stepping next to the blonde. She raised her arm, in order to stop an approaching taxi, but instead of slowing down, the driver kept going, driving through a big puddle that was still left from the night's shower.

Olivia saw it coming too late and so she didn't react in time. "Watch o..."

She didn't even finish before the passing car had soaked them both to the bone.

For a brief second everything froze. Then Olivia looked at the dripping blonde and couldn't fight the laughter. She started chuckling and when Alex looked at her indignantly she only laughed harder. Finally the blonde decided to find the humour in their predicament and joined in.

"I'm sorry", Olivia finally said, wiping away the dirty water and tears that were staining her cheeks. "I shouldn't have laughed at you, but the expression on your face was just priceless."

Mrs. Langan seemed to be in a forgiving mood. "It's alright, Ms. Benson, you look rather precious yourself, all wet."

Olivia suddenly blushed furiously, not completely able to keep the naughty images the other woman's innocent statement had provoked from her mind.

Her blush faded a little when she saw the other woman shiver, trying to wrap her thin coat firmer around herself.

"My goodness, you really are completely drenched, please, come with me, I live just around the corner. I can give you some dry clothes and we can take a taxi from there so you can get changed at home, if you'd like to."

Alex seemed hesitant, but a gust of wind sent a new round of shivers down her spine, and she nodded her assent.

Olivia had been right, her apartment literally was just around the corner. They climbed the old staircase and finally reached a door at the end of the corridor which Olivia opened. Inside it was comfortably warm and loud music greeted them from behind Casey's door.

"Abbie, Casey, I'm home!", Olivia called. Since there was no reaction she knocked on Abbie's door, pushing down the handle when there was no reply. Abbie's room was empty, so Olivia tried Casey' s door next. Again, no reply, but the door was locked. Olivia shrugged and turned around, facing a curiously watching Alex.

" my flatmate learned from her mistake", she grinned.

At Alex' questioning glance she elaborated. "Last time I surprised her singing along the radio, pretending her brush was a microphone."

Alex smiled, as much as her shuttering teeth allowed her to, somehow Olivia's world seemed foreign and completely ordinary at the same time.

Olivia saw the other woman's distress and ushered her through to her own room.

Alexandra's good education should have prevented her from staring, but she couldn't. Her eyes roamed. There were books everywhere, on the desk, on the shelf, littering the small nightstand, and there was even a stack on the floor. Apart from that, the reporter's room looked pretty clean and tidy. Even though the room had the feeling of a personalized student's dorm room, there were no clothes lying around, except for the leather jacket that was haphazardly thrown over a chair in the corner. On the walls were beautiful black and white pictures, most of them showing the city in ways Alex had never seen it. The blonde wondered briefly whether Olivia had taken them when her eyes fell on the snapshot of Olivia and an older woman who looked a lot like the brunette sitting on a bench in Central Park. Next to it was a picture of a daredevil Olivia and her dark-haired Texan friend holding up their high-school diplomas, with a furious looking older woman in the background. The next one was a profile of Abbie, eyes looking thoughtfully to a faraway point, hair tousled, sad smile playing around her lips. She was undeniably beautiful and Alex felt her heart constrict when she felt that pang of jealousy again. The last photo made her smile though, Olivia, Abbie, and a younger woman were sitting at the chrome counter of a diner, all of them drinking milkshakes through straws while an older blonde woman was watching them with an affectionate smile.

While Alexandra indulged her curiosity Olivia had gone through her closet, finally returning with some jeans, a pair of socks and a huge sweater for Alex, and a pair of jeans and an old man's shirt for herself.

"Here", she said, handing Alex the clothes. "The jeans might be a tad short, but they are huge on me, so it might work. I'm sorry there's no bigger selection, I need to do laundry. But there are fresh towels on the rack in the bathroom, please, help yourself."

She pointed Alex to the last remaining door.

Ten minutes later they were in the open kitchen. Alex was enjoying the warmth, tapping her feet in rhythm to the music that was still coming through Casey's door while Olivia was brewing coffee for the two of them. Alex had been a little self-conscious after leaving the bathroom. She had not been wearing trousers in public in ages, a Mrs. Langan was not supposed to wear jeans. But one look at the barefoot brunette in a pair of tight jeans, and a partially unbuttoned shirt made her forget about her own pants and focused her thoughts on that enticing pair in front of her.

A mug, carefully placed in on the table in front of her tore her out of her musings.

"There's some sugar if you'd like. If I remember correctly you don't take milk", the reporter's smooth voice told her.

Alex looked up, surprised the brunette remembered her coffee preferences from the interview.

"Thank you", she said

Olivia smiled and sat down across the table from Alex. For a while they sipped their coffee, enjoying it's warming effect while making petty smalltalk.

Suddenly Casey's door opened, interrupting the peaceful atmosphere and Abbie, clad only in her panties and a loose shirt, came out, accompanied by loud music, and softer giggles.

"Oh Liv, sorry we didn't hear you coming home, we were uhm, a little busy", Abbie exclaimed with a shit-eating grin on her face.

Finally she noticed the open-mouthed woman sitting at their kitchen table, staring at her in complete shock.

"Oh shit, sorry, didn't know you had company", she apologized to her flatmate, looking anything but sorry.

Olivia who was more than a little embarrassed at her current predicament couldn't help but notice that genuinely happy looked very good on her old friend. But as much as she did not begrudge her friend's lucky streak, not to mention her joy at the prospect of less awkward dinners and more ice cream in the fridge, she still wasn't quite sure how to explain all of this to the prim and proper woman sitting at her table, looking as if she had just seen a three headed dinosaur.

"Uhm", she finally stuttered, "Mrs. Langan, please meet my flatmate, Abigail Carmichael, Abbie, this is Mrs. Langan."

Abbie winked at the blonde, grabbing two apples and a bottle of milk from the fridge. "Pleasure to meet ya Mrs. Langan, hope your husband's election goes well. I would love to stay and chat, but my services are required elsewhere. Liv, tonight's country night, I'll expect to see you there. Later..."

With a last wave of the bottle she disappeared into Casey's room and kicked the door shut behind her, leaving two completely stunned women in her wake.

* * *

So did you like? Happy that at least Abbie and Case are getting some? Let me know... Oh, and I'm open to suggestions how Alex and Liv should spend their day together, I do have a couple of different ideas.


End file.
